I am chronically ill. I live with chronic pain. I battle treatment-resistant depression. I also battle a hell of a lot with low energy levels.
I’m a dad, too.
Being a dad is one of the reasons I’m still alive.
I’ve always wanted something of my own, a project with meaning that could help someone living through circumstances like mine.
So, I created a blog called, Dads Like Me.
It’s for dads, like me.
This wasn’t supposed to be my first post
I had been working on a completely different introductory post.
I wanted to tell you what happened to me and what I’ve done to carry on through the suboptimal life I’m living right now. I wanted to explain everything properly and put it all in the right order.
But this wasn’t supposed to be my first blog post.
Then I landed in hospital.
I was admitted on 25 July 2026 because of chronic abdominal pain. At the time of writing this, on 28 July 2026, I’m still here.
As you will come to find out, my abdomen is not my friend, not by a long shot. It is also one of the main reasons I pushed myself to write this blog.
The amount of pain I’m in at the moment is extraordinary. After two years and eight laparotomies (surgeries performed to gain access to the abdominal cavity)
I’m still asking myself: Is it all in my head? Is this pain real, or am I making this up?
No, Warrick. For fuck’s sake. You’ve had eight laparotomies!
That is where I’m at right now.
This post came out because I felt I needed to keep writing. It came out all over the place, but it’s real. So, instead of pretending that everything is neatly organised, I’ve decided to show you, in complete honesty, where I am.
Mourning the man I used to be
It has been two years since the second time I cheated death.
I didn’t get away completely scot-free this time. My body has all but crumbled. The intense chronic abdominal pain has become unusually normal, and it has seriously taken its toll.
I thought I would be well on my way to living a completely normal life again by now.
But I’m not.
Sometimes, dads have too much pride to ask for help. We are supposed to be strong and take everything in our stride.
But in reality, we are not superhuman—even though we sometimes think we are.
We are supposed to be the protectors. The providers. Our family’s safe place.
Even if we’re fortunate enough not to be the main breadwinner, we often still want to be.
But what happens when life doesn’t pan out that way?
What happens when the man we thought we would be gets left behind, or disappears altogether? What happens when the identities we were once so proud of turn to dust?
The things that made us feel like the men we were can suddenly be replaced by raw, unrelenting pain, illness, suffering and sadness.
I’m mourning the old Warrick. It has become a kind of prolonged grief, made worse by the pain.
I feel as though I’ve lost touch with who I am.
At the same time, I know the Warrick everybody likes is still here. The kind Warrick. The considerate and caring Warrick. The loving Warrick.
He just hasn’t been making many appearances lately.
The hard-headed one is also still here.
If he weren’t, there wouldn’t be any hope left in me.
Why I created Dads Like Me
Even though life is really shitty at the moment, I know how blessed I am to still have my family: my wife, S Mc S, my son, El Jay and my incredible parents and sister.
El Jay is the guy who keeps me chugging along—and, at times, at quite a rapid speed.
Quite a while ago, as my wife will attest, I had a thought:
There must be other dads like me out there. I should write a blog.
Before doing any research, I decided that I wanted to create a blog for us.
Initially, I gave the blog a different name. But the name felt so heavy that I couldn’t get any further than setting up a homepage and paying for software I never used.
Eventually, I kicked that idea into the bin.
As soon as I did, I felt a hell of a lot lighter.
This blog is my project. It is something I’m building myself, because I truly believe there are other dads out there who desperately want to show up for their kids as much as possible.
We want to run with them. Jump on the trampoline. Go to their birthday parties. Take trips with friends. Do all the fun things dads imagine doing with their kids.
Unfortunately, dads like me can’t always do those things.
Sometimes, saying hello to your little/big boy or girl in the morning is all we can manage. Sometimes, your spouse has to attend an event alone because you literally cannot get out of bed.
The guilt that comes with being unable to do what other dads can do is maddening. It causes a severe kind of emotional pain.
Unfortunately, sometimes we genuinely don’t have a choice.
That doesn’t mean we don’t care.
And even when simply being there is all we can manage, it still counts for something.
Illness affects everyone around us
What I’m living through right now is tough, not only for me, but for my family too.
Recently, it contributed to the biggest row my wife and I have ever had.
It was not her fault.
My intense hatred and anger about what has happened, and is still happening to me, and the sheer unfairness of it all, caused me to behave horribly and completely out of proportion to the situation.
My pain may help explain what happened, but it does not excuse my behaviour.
My anger really scared her. To be fair, I’d also be scared. No violence, but pure, raw unbelievable anger.
I never dreamed that I would come anywhere close to frightening the person I love so dearly, the person who turned my life upside down with happiness and joy, and who does so much for me every single day.
She came face-to-face with a Warrick who had never existed before.
I am so sorry that she did.
I also need to be honest about the times when I have not been myself and the ways my illness has affected the people I love. That I am not proud of. To be better. To rather be ME again and not the rage full asshole.
What I hope this blog can do
In general, almost every resource out there seems to be for moms, not dads.
I don’t think dads have been left behind intentionally.
But we have still been left behind.
Two years into this journey, I have learnt a few things. I’ve picked up tips and tricks that have helped me along the way.
I’m no expert, but I may be further along this road than some other dads.
The point of this blog is to share what has, and what hasn’t helped me. That includes things that have helped in my relationship with my son and things that have helped in my marriage.
I’ll share ideas for connecting with your child on a bad day, as well as some of the things I’ve learnt about damage control in our closest relationships when illness takes over.
I’m not claiming to know everything. I haven’t experienced every possibility illness can throw at a person. Reading my stories or using the tips, ideas and personal guidelines I share will not solve every problem you have.
They are not medical advice.
I’m still in this with you.
I may simply have picked up some helpful things along the road I’ve been walking for a while.
Take what you want. Use what helps. Leave behind the things that don’t.
If what I say resonates with you, you’re welcome to join me on this journey.
If it doesn’t, don’t worry about it.
At Dads Like Me, I hope to befriend you and help you along your journey. I hope you can help me too.
Just remember: we may be walking slightly different roads, but we’re on a similar journey.
You’re a dad, like me.
I’m still here.
And so is the hard-headed one.
P.S. I told my wife I’d create a blog.
Look, S Mc S—I’ve finally done it!